


There’ll be no end, ‘cause on my love you can depend

by savvyliterate



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Post Episode: s07e14 The Name of the Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvyliterate/pseuds/savvyliterate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, basically, you want me to convince the Doctor to fall asleep so he can join a conference call with his in-laws so they can yell at him about not dealing with his wife. This, admittedly, is not the strangest thing to happen to us lately. Neither is this phone call. Are you quite sure it won’t show up on the bill?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	There’ll be no end, ‘cause on my love you can depend

**Author's Note:**

> This came from an idea I had when "The Name of the Doctor" aired, wondering if the conference calls could also be used to contact the Ponds. It just so happened that I finally wrote it before Doctor/River Appreciation Day on Tumblr. Many thanks to Charina, Pam, and Sarah for the beta! 
> 
> The title is from "Love is All Around," by Wet Wet Wet

Vastra never made a move without thinking things through, the pros and cons for all involved. While she could indeed get caught up in the moment like anyone, she preferred to sit in her personal salon and consider the possibilities.

There was a lot to consider since Trenzalore.

_“You are always here to me. And I can always see you.”_

The Doctor’s words haunted Vastra as she sipped at her tea. She bathed in sunlight, the warm amplified by the walls of glass that surround her, the exotic plants from an array of planets filling the room. She had come so close to losing her Jenny several times during that particular event, but was fortunate to find her happiness again. Had she and Jenny not already been wed, she’d have insisted on it after those harrowing hours.

“Have you reached a conclusion on things, madame?”

Vastra lifted her gaze to meet Jenny’s, her wife’s hands curled around the teapot. “It’s quite a difficult situation to ascertain, my dear Jenny. I fear I’m not approaching this matter from the standpoint that I should.”

Jenny set aside the teapot and took the seat next to hers. “When it comes to them, have you ever?”

Vastra merely stared at Jenny for a moment, stunned. She shook her head. It should be of no surprise that Jenny managed to figure out the subject of her thoughts. “Yes,” she insisted. “At first, of course I did. It was far easier before the dark times.” She reached for Jenny’s hand. “It took nearly losing you to see that I should have pressed my opinion on the matter far more firmly than I did. I fear it might be too late.”

“She did say the word, madame.”

Vastra chuckled. “Spoilers.”

Jenny’s brow furrowed. “But, I don’t get the other things he said. Did he not realize?”

“No, and I think this is where we come in.” Vastra pushed her tea away and took Jenny’s hands in hers. “I’m ready to go back into the trance.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been reluctant.”

“I have been procrastinating,” Vastra admitted. “Not because of what we experienced on Trenzalore, but because facing her will not be pleasant.”

Jenny squeezed Vastra’s hands. “I always find it best to get the unpleasant things done with.”

“You always know the right thing to say, my dear.” Vastra pressed her lips to Jenny’s. They parted slightly as Jenny returned the kiss, and they allowed themselves that one moment of sweet solidarity before Vastra pulled away. “We won’t be needing Strax for this one. While I am sure we will be all right, I prefer he stand guard this time.”

“I think his levity is best served elsewhere. I’ll let him know, then I’ll join you.”

Vastra watched the sway of Jenny’s hips as she walked away. Then she closed her eyes and allowed herself to slide into sleep.

It wasn’t the Taj Mahal, nor was it elegant room the last conference call was held in. This desktop had taken the form of a location in New York’s Central Park, a large sun-warmed rock with a view overlooking the city. It was not what Vastra preferred when it came to desktops, but it would do. This one wasn’t influenced by her, and she accepted that. She approached the picnic blanket and sat down to wait, arranging her skirts around her as she took in the view.

“Hello? Hello!”

Vastra closed her eyes, and when she opened them, a tea service awaited. She reached for a cup. “Good afternoon, are you with me?”

“Yes, Ponds here! Well, half of us.” Amy Pond appeared in a puff of smoke, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear from where it’s fallen out of a messy bun. “Rory’s up with the baby. Been teething, poor mite. Is there a status report?”

“Yes. Won’t you have some tea?” Vastra motioned to an empty setting.

Amy ignored it, dropping to her knees next to Vastra. “Well?”

Vastra hid her smile with a sip of excellent Earl Grey. It wasn’t the blend from the aborted call before Trenzalore, but the memory surrounding this tea was one of her favorites. “They’ve made contact.”

Amy huffed, sitting back. “Well, it’s about time. He’s being a right git about all this, and I _told_ him to be happy. But will he contact her? Of course not.”

Vastra inclined her head. “Well, I’m not sure if this could be considered good news.” And she told Amy about Trenzalore.

By the end, there were tears in Amy’s eyes, along with an anger that could easy cause a Time Lord to regenerate. Especially if said Time Lord happened to be one’s son-in-law. “So, that’s it? He just told her good-bye? Gave up?”

“Well, he did need to save Clara …”

“I _know_ that. Still, that can’t be it. It’s _them_. Surely, we can fix it!”

“There are some things, Amy Pond, that can’t be fixed.”

“I absolutely refuse to believe that.” Amy leaned into Vastra, the loose strands of hair falling into her face. “Look, if I got a bloody Weeping Angel to somehow land me in the exact time and space it zapped Rory to, if I can go to Demon’s Run and give birth to bloody River Song, then I can make the Doctor listen to me.”

Vastra set her tea back on the saucer. She watched the children the dreamscape provided play on the ice rink in the distance. “I suppose if anyone can convince the Doctor, you can. There’s something I know about Trenzalore that he doesn’t.”

Amy pushed the errant locks of hair back. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

“When the Doctor said he didn’t think anyone could see him kissing River, he was correct. But, he was also incorrect. We didn’t see her at first. But, as they were kissing, she came into view and solidified. When she left the tomb, it was the way we normally leave these conference call, not the way she left before when she was a data ghost.”

Amy’s jaw dropped. “So, you’re saying River’s alive? Really, properly alive?”

“Yes, I think the odds are good that she is.”

Amy whooped. “Rory!! Oh, bloody hell, he’s not here. _Rory!”_ With a shimmer, Amy disconnected from the call. Vastra shook her head and waited for her to reappear, taking the brief interlude to finish her tea. She felt Jenny’s presence on the call, not entirely with them, but close enough by to reassure Vastra. She spotted her wife with the children, and her nerves eased.

When Amy returned, Rory was with her, holding a sleeping baby.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t bring Anthony on these calls until he was at least old enough to walk,” Rory groused.

“It’s not my fault you fell asleep holding him!” Amy dropped back onto the blanket and tugged Rory down with her. “So, what do we need to do? How do we talk to the Doctor?”

“Quite easy enough. Tomorrow morning, your time, you will receive a package from a very discreet lawyer containing instructions from me as to how to initiate a conference call. It’s quite simple, something that River devised during her time in the data core, as you well know. When you go to sleep tomorrow night, activate the device. By then, Clara should have taken care of the rest.”

“Clara?” Rory asked, patting the baby’s back.

“The Doctor’s current traveling assistant. She’s familiar with the conference call system and the best person to do what needs to be done so the Doctor can be put into contact with you two.” Vastra sighed. “He has to go to sleep.”

\-----

“Right.” Clara wrapped a strand of hair around her finger as she paced before the window overlooking the back garden. The Doctor was out there with Artie, the two of them hunched over what was to be a science fair project. Angie sat on the porch, nose plastered to her mobile as she texted Nina. “So, basically, you want me to convince the Doctor to fall asleep so he can join a conference call with his in-laws so they can yell at him about not dealing with his wife. This, admittedly, is not the strangest thing to happen to us lately. Neither is this phone call. Are you quite sure it won’t show up on the bill?”

“Very much his current in-laws, if Trenzalore was any indication,” Vastra explained. The phone, in this case, was far more effective than a soporific-laced letter. Not to mention that it wouldn’t work on the Doctor. “Did he explain to you what happened after you went into his time line?”

“Not particularly. We were in a bit of a mess afterward.” Clara frowned. “I really hope this doesn’t involve a trip to Casualty.”

“What, the conference call? It’s quite harmless, despite what Amy threatens.”

“Not that. Whatever he’s doing with Artie.” Clara opened the window and stuck her head out. “Hey! What’re you two up to?”

“It’s all right,” Artie called back. “The Doctor and I are using lemons to create a voltaic battery to power a watch!”

Clara shrugged. Seemed harmless enough. Her mates had done the same thing in school. She started to close the window.

“But,” the Doctor added, “I’m just going to add a couple zaps from the sonic, and it’ll really work much better. Top marks!”

“Ah, danger, danger, Will Robinson,” Clara muttered. “Sorry, have to go, or he’ll somehow set fire to the entire block.”

“Your charge or the Doctor?” Vastra asked.

“Yes!” Clara dropped the phone on the receiver and flew downstairs.

She rushed out the back door just as she heard a loud zap. “Too late,” Angie muttered as Clara dashed by to see the Doctor sprawled on the ground under the tree, Artie clutching a lemon in his hand.

“I didn’t do anything!” he insisted as Clara dropped to her knees. “He zapped it with that wand of his, and he flew back and hit the tree trunk!”

Clara waved her hand over his eyes and sat back with a huff. “Well, that was anti-climatic. Easier than trying to figure out how to get him to sleep in a normal fashion.”

“Aren’t you going to call an ambulance?” Angie asked.

“Nah, he looks fine.” Clara gently probed the lump on the back of his head. “He needed to fall asleep somehow so his mother-in-law can yell at him.”

This got Angie’s attention. “He’s married?” she gasped, setting the phone aside. She strode to Artie and Clara and stood over them, arms crossed over her chest. “But, he’s your boyfriend.”

“No, _you_ say he’s my boyfriend. Your reality and actual reality are vastly different.”

“Does his wife know you travel with him?” Artie asked.

“Yes.”

“And, where is she?” Angie winged an eyebrow.

“Dead. At the moment. I think. It’s complicated.”

Angie and Artie exchanged a _look_. Clara knew those looks. She sighed and sat back on her heels. “Look, the Doctor and his wife are like _The Time Traveler’s Wife_. Back and forth, not always in sync sort of thing. Believe me, he’s very, very married, and even if he wasn’t, he’s not the sort of bloke I’d date anyhow. Now, fetch me a cushion from the sofa, and we’ll wait for him to wake up.”

\-----

He was in a very familiar back garden, one he had spent a considerable amount of time in during three all-important parts of his life. He swallowed, overcome with emotion as he sank onto a tree stump. “Amy,” he whispered.

“About time you showed up, you numpty.”

The Doctor stiffened, then sprang off the stump and spun to see Amy standing behind him, dressed like she’d walked out of a 1940s Macy’s advertisement. “Amelia?”

“Wasn’t sure how long it’d take you to get this or if I used what Vastra sent right.”

He warily approached her. “You’re not real. You’re like River. You’re in my mind.”

“Of course, I’m in your mind, stupid! Doesn’t mean I’m not real at the same time!”

He reached tentatively for her, and Amy rolled her eyes and hauled the Doctor into her arms. He squeezed his eyes closed, hanging onto Amy like a Weeping Angel would suddenly emerge and snatch her into the past once more. He pressed his nose into her hair, smelling vanilla and baby powder and the unique scent that made Amy Amy. “But, how?”

“Vastra said Clara told you about the conference calls?”

The Doctor pulled back, jaw sagging. “You’re in on those conference calls?”

“Duh, stupid!” Amy flicked the Doctor’s forehead. “Who do you think they were for to begin with? You stick my daughter in the largest library in the universe, of course she’s going to try to break out. It’s River Song, you numpty. Anyone knows that.”

Knees weak, the Doctor sank back onto the stump. “River?”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Yeah. This tall,” she held her hands up, “hair so curly that she wound up starting the Trojan War, broke out of Stormcage about 4,835 times, the woman you married about 287 times but only allowed me and Rory to attend 38 of those? That River.”

“River,” he gasped.

“Yes, good Doctor, you know her name.”

“She came up with this?” He waved his hand about the garden.

“With a little help from Vastra and Jenny.” Amy sat next to him. “They used the data in the Library to develop a device for conducting telepathic conference calls. Communication in dreams. It’s not the same, but it was better than nothing. They tested it on me and Rory, reached out to us in 1939. We’d been stuck in the past for a year then. She told us what happened and not to blame you. You didn’t know when you first met us.”

“No,” the Doctor acknowledged. When he found out who River was, he preferred not to think of her fate, had put it out of his mind until he confronted his older self escorting her to the Singing Towers. “Why didn’t she try with … oh.” He thought about all the times he’d seen River since he’d met Clara. Lurking in the halls of the TARDIS, by his side as he gave up his memories on Ahkaten, in the Cold War-era submarine as he closed his eyes and prayed not to kill everyone and River, please, please give him strength. She’d guided them in the 1970s and when the TARDIS had gotten salvaged. That dark side of himself, Mr. Clever, had tried to access the part of his mind where he’d hidden his love for her like one of the lost wonders of the world.

“I could always see her, Amy. I could always hear her, and it hurt too much.” He ran his fingers down her cheek. “I can’t cope with it, Amy. I can’t cope with seeing her because she was right.” He swallowed past the tears he couldn’t hide from her. “I left her in the Library because I don’t want to say good-bye, and I still can’t. She left me a way out. She always does that, you know. River knows. She knows everything, and I knew this would happen. When you and I were so young, so long ago on that beach on Alfava Metraxis, I tried running away from it. I knew how she died, and I didn’t want to save her, Amy. I just wanted to spare myself from hurting the way … it still hurts. Everything hurts.”

Amy stroked his arm as he forced the words out, because it was Amy. While Clara was amazing and impossible, she wasn’t his Amelia. “I’m an old man, Amelia Pond. I’ve loved and lost so much. But knowing that River was part-Time Lord, had all those regenerations, and we could had spent millennia together … we spent centuries married as is, and every day we were married, the more I ran from her end. I told myself I wouldn’t do this, that nothing could hurt worse than losing my family, than losing Susan. Than losing Rose. I thought if I could walk away from the Time War, I could walk away from anything. But, I was wrong.”

He leaned his head on Amy’s shoulder, and she rubbed his back. “So,” she said after a moment, “are you done feeling sorry for yourself?”

That prompted a laugh. “You haven’t changed, Amy.”

“No, and neither have you.” She elbowed his side. “You’re not telling me anything I didn’t know. Hate to tell you this, but she had you long before she flew in the TARDIS door. You were strutting around like a cock, preening in some sort of bizarre Time Lordy mating ritual. It’s not painful for you to see me?”

“No,” the Doctor admitted, and he realized it really wasn’t painful. He’d lost Amy nearly as tragically as he had her daughter, but he felt at peace. It was like seeing Martha or Sarah Jane, other companions who had moved on. It helped that she looked settled and happy.

“We can do this whenever you want. I can initiate it now. You don’t like endings, and you can check on us when you’d like. Not the same as an adventure, but Rory and I are on a different one now.” Amy beamed. “We adopted a couple months back. Little boy named Anthony.”

The Doctor managed a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“His middle name is Doctor, right?”

Amy socked his arm. “No.”

“Next one then.”

Amy snorted. “Don’t even try, pal.”

They sat together on the stump, gazing at the old house and the stars they traveled together beyond. “When he’s older, we’re going to motor across the U.S. It’s not the universe, but it’s not rubbish either, “ Amy said absently. “You should drop in once we’re clear from New York. Enough time, enough distance, as long as we don’t go hopping into the TARDIS, we’re good.”

The Doctor considered this. An old-fashioned motorcar trip across the U.S. with the Ponds. He’d bring Clara, of course. Clara would like the Ponds. They could stay in seedy hotels and check out little shops. River would especially love the seedy hotels. She’d grade the beds on how well they held up to shagging. A lump formed in his throat. No, no, he couldn’t go with the Ponds on such a trip without River. Maybe he could send a message to her younger self. Surely there was a loophole he’d yet to exploit.

“And you’ll be bringing my daughter, because when we’re done here, you’re going to fetch her.”

“Of course,” he murmured and wondered if there were any precious days left he could spend with his wife. It would be worth the pain just to hold her again.

Amy sighed. “Do I have to spell it out for you, Beano brain?”

“Oi!”

Amy tapped his forehead. “You are going to fetch my daughter from the Library. You are going to grovel at her feet and spend the rest of your regenerations making it up to her for being a daft idiot.”

“Amy, I can’t save her. We said our good-byes, there’s no going back.”

“No, but there’s going forward.” Amy sighed at his confusion. “Doctor, Vastra told me about Trenzalore. About Clara going into your time line to save you at so many points of your life, including when we were in the Dalek asylum. Did it never occur to you that she saved River?”

The Doctor blinked.

Amy grinned. “Vastra and Jenny got quite the eyeful when they saw you snogging her. Knew you had it in you.”

“They saw …?”

Amy nodded slowly. “They saw. Which means she had to exist, yeah?”

“But River … she faded away!”

“Because she lost the mental link with Clara.” Vastra shimmered into view in front of them. She flicked a gaze about the garden before pinning the Doctor with a stare that sent those who didn’t know better running for their mothers. “Pardon the intrusion, Amy.”

“No, ganging up on him is useful.”

“You saw River?” the Doctor demanded. He surged to his feet and grabbed Vastra’s arms. “You better not be lying to me, because I swear to every god in this universe if you are –”

“Do you honestly believe I would do such a thing to you after all we’ve been through?”

The Doctor swallowed. “She’s alive. River’s alive, and she’s in the Library.”

“Actually, you’re better off trying her home,” Vastra said.

“And I can see you whenever I want?” The Doctor turned to Amy.

“In your dreams and in reality. It’s your call, Doctor. The Weeping Angels were never keeping you away from us once we got a few years away from 1938.” Amy kissed his cheek. “Go and get my daughter, then come visit us. Bring Clara. I’ll see you soon, my Raggedy Man.” She caught his arm and squeezed hard. “You know that Rory and I love you both.”

“Amelia Pond.” He kissed her forehead and nodded to Vastra. “Til the next time, Vastra.”

She inclined her head. “Give my best to Professor Song and Clara.”

\-----

With a jolt, the Doctor nearly smacked his forehead into Clara’s as he woke. She yelped and scampered back as Angie snickered. Artie, bored with waiting for the Doctor to wake up, had gone back to messing with the lemon battery using two fresh lemons.

“So, you’re really not her boyfriend?” Angie narrowed her eyes before the Doctor could say anything. “You’re not shagging her behind your wife’s back?”

“Angie!” Clara gasped, horrified.

“No, no, not her boyfriend. Though River would find it amusing. River always finds that stuff amusing.”

Angie snorted. “You married a person named _River_?”

“River is a perfectly respectable name, especially for someone like her.”

“What, a hippie?”

“Archaeologist,” the Doctor corrected, pleased when he twitched only slightly. “Come along, Clara!”

“Doctor, I can’t just leave them. Their dad’s not home yet, and it’s not my day off.”

“We can go to Nina’s, stop your fussing,” Angie muttered. “C’mon, Artie, the Doctor’s taking Clara on a date.”

“I keep telling you he’s not my boyfriend,” Clara sighed. “He is very, _very_ married.”

Angie lifted a shoulder. “So? Doesn’t stop a lot of people.”

“It stops me.” Clara blocked Angie’s exit and deftly took the mobile away from her. “Look at me. No, properly look,” she insisted when the teen averted her gaze. It took a moment, but it finally shifted back. “I know I’m not your favorite person. I’m OK with that, I really am. But to keep saying that I’m doing something with the Doctor that disrespects his marriage is hurtful to both of us.”

Her heart lurched, remembering how he’d cried as she’d talked about River and Trenzalore, how shattered he’d been when they came across the false grave. “My parents had a marriage like theirs. They loved each other the same way, and I’m a product of that love. How can I even think to destroy someone else’s marriage knowing how powerful love like that is?”

“You didn’t always know he was married,” Angie pointed out.

“Still doesn’t change the fact that I never thought of him like that.” A disturbing memory flashed into her mind, of a darkened stairwell in a Victorian-era home, and Clara shuddered. One of her echoes. OK, then, clearly a very small part of her did.

“But, isn’t that how you became our nanny to begin with?” Angie demanded.

“What? _No!_ ” Clara shook her a bit. “What on Earth made you possibly think I was sleeping with your father?” Her stomach lurched at the mere thought. God, she’d even have an affair with the Doctor before she considered such a thing with Angie and Artie’s father.

“He did it when Mum was alive!” In tears now, Angie tried to get her phone back. “I saw him! I came home from practice early, and I saw them in bed. He didn’t see me, but she did. But, I ran and no one ever said anything.”

“Oh, Angie!” Clara pulled her into her arms as the teen broke down.

It took Clara a good two hours to get the kids squared away. Angie, uncomfortable with her breakdown in front of Clara, asked more politely to spend the night at Nina’s. Clara agreed and sent Artie along since he was mates with Nina’s younger brother. She texted a message to Mr. Maitland and got permission to have the night off. The sun was setting as she stepped into the TARDIS and drew to a halt.

Clothes were strewn all over the room. Bow ties of different colors hung from different levers on the console. Clara warily closed the door behind her. “Did the wardrobe room explode?”

“Clara!” The Doctor took the steps two at a time, dressed in his purple tweed. He twirled in front of her. “How do I look?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Same as you always do. Slightly daft Victorian reject.”

“No, I’m definitely different.” He leaned into her and tweaked the bow tie. “See?”

“Different bow tie, yeah.”

“Not just different, Clara Oswald. Special. Now, how’s Angie?”

“All settled at Nina’s.” With a sigh, she began picking up clothes. Travelling with the Doctor really was like taking care of another child. “It makes sense, all the hostility Angie’s had toward me. I reckon it was because their mother died, but it makes sense with their dad. I knew about George’s affairs. Wasn’t a huge secret, but we didn’t think the kids knew.”

“Kids always know,” the Doctor said, peering in the monitor and adjusting his bow tie.

“Yeah, they do.” Clara stopped in scooping up clothes. “Why are you preening about like a peacock?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you!” The Doctor spun around and pointed at her. “You are truly the impossible girl.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. Though, right now I’m more like the woman growing increasingly annoyed. Plus, I’m 25. Not any sort of girl, thank you.”

The Doctor ignored her rant. “You saved me.”

“Yes, we established that on Trenzalore. I saved you in numerous points of your history, and now I’m apparently your nursemaid.” She shoved the clothes into the Doctor’s hands. “Now, go put those away.”

“No, no, Clara.” He dropped the clothes and hugged her. “You _saved_ me.”

She patted his back. “Look, I appreciate the gratitude but -”

The Doctor pushed her back to arm’s length. “One of your echoes saved me in the Library. Do you remember what River told you on Trenzalore?”

“She died saving you, and you made a back-up to a database in the largest library in the universe. You didn’t even tell her good-bye!” And with that, Clara smacked the Doctor’s arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Leaving her all alone like that! You bloody git! She’s your wife, how can you just leave her like that?”

“Clara, it’s not what –”

“She _loves_ you!” Tears of fury in her eyes, Clara scooped up the clothes once more and shoved them in his arms. “She loves you, and you just left her! That is not nice, it’s perfectly horrid! Now, you’re going to put those clothes back in the storage bin, and we’re going to figure a way for you to properly talk to her.”

“But, Clara –”

“Nothing you’re going to say will make me change my mind!”

“You saved her, Clara.”

Clara blinked once. Then twice. She raised a hand. “That’ll make me change my mind.”

She helped the Doctor put the clothes away as he discussed the call with Amy and Vastra.  “So, she became solid?”

“As you changed my past. Both our pasts. Because you saved River, you saved me. My Clara.” He kissed the top of her head. “Now, we’ll just have to scoop her up, and we’ve got a date with the Ponds.”

“Are you sure you want me around?” Clara asked as they ascended the stairs.

“Why not? River will want to thank you, too.”

Clara wiggled her fingers. “You know, maybe you want some time alone.”

He flushed and took them into the vortex. “Yes. Well. Unlike humans, we don’t allow our hormones to rule us.”

Clara merely arched an eyebrow and didn’t say a word.

\-----

The Doctor bounded out of the TARDIS just outside the neat cottage that River kept on the outskirts of Luna University. He triple-checked the date, tweaked his bow tie and swept in the back door. Clara shook her head and fished out her Kindle, prepare to wile a few hours away with a good book. Just as she chose a Philippa Gregory novel to read, the Doctor stepped back into the TARDIS, puzzled. “She’s not here,” he said.

“Maybe we missed the date a bit.”

They tried several dates. No River. They tried her classroom next, nearly running into a younger version of her. Frustrated, the Doctor took the TARDIS to the Library. Cloaking it, he parked near the shuttle docks and gave Clara explicit orders to stay inside.

“My younger self and Donna Noble are out there, and there’s a chance they could remember the echo that sacrificed itself here,” he told her. “I’ll be back with River in just a ‘mo.”

Clara waved him off, and the Doctor hurried into the hall. People milled about him, and he searched for a familiar shock of curly hair. He highly doubted that she’d linger around his tenth self, but there was no telltale burn of the psychic paper requesting a pick-up either. With a huff, he started back into the TARDIS when he caught sight of a man gazing anxiously around the departure area. He considered, shook his head, reconsidered.

Snatching up a reference cube for memos, he dictated space-time coordinates in English. “Lee McAvoy!”

Lee turned, scanning the crowd until he noticed the Doctor waving to him. He moved in the opposite direction of the departing crowd to get a bit closer to him. “Sorry, do I know you?”

“After a fashion. Catch!” He tossed the cube to Lee. “Find yourself a reputable Time Agent and go to those coordinates. You’ll find who you’re looking for there.” He clapped Lee’s shoulder. “Now, she’s not going to remember who you are, so you need to start over from the top. Try texting and scones.”

“Scones?”

“Scones.” The Doctor patted his shoulder and stepped back into the TARDIS.

They spent the next several hours checking River’s favorite haunts and confirming that the expedition shuttle, carrying the survivors from the Library, had departed with River on it. The Doctor zipped back and forth to Leadworth, London, various archaeological digs, even hazarded a trip to Stormcage. In the end, he had two spots left, and he had a sneaking suspicion where to find her.

“The next time she calls me a sentimental idiot, remind her of this,” the Doctor said as he emerged from the wardrobe dressed in his tux.

Clara whistled. “Dressing up for the wife, are we?”

“How do I look?” He spun in front of her and swung his cane.

“A bit silly, and she’ll love it.” Clara straightened the bow tie. “Did we find her this time?”

“I believe so.” The Doctor checked the monitor. One life sign with two heartbeats in a very remote part of Darillium, His gut said this was the right River, and he was suddenly nervous. He smoothed his shirt down and wondered how hard her slap was going to be. He whirled around. “Are you sure I look OK?”

“Actually, you kind of look like you’re about to hurl. Not the most attractive look on a bloke.”

“Oh, stop it.” The Doctor paced back and forth.

“And, how long have the two of you been married?”

“It’s not the point. The point is how long I … I …”

“Left her on the shelf?” Clara tut-tutted a bit. “Sorry, Doctor, you’re on your own for this one. Tell me how good your groveling skills are again?”

He grumbled and headed to the door.

“Now, remember, you two are on curfew,” Clara sang out as she dropped into the captain’s chair with her Kindle. “Back before midnight, no partying with strangers, and remember to use protection. Don’t want any little Time Lords running about now, do we?”

The Doctor promptly ran into the door.

Grumbling about extremely cheeky companions, he stepped into the cool night as he reconsidered having Amy and Clara properly meet. It was the worst idea since New Coke. They would gang up on him, and River certainly wouldn’t be of any help. She’d just stand to the side and smirk that drove him mad in several different ways. At least Rory would be there. Good, old Rory. He closed the door behind him and gazed at the stars. There was a time not so long ago, when the loneliness had surrounded him to the point where he didn’t imagine there was a way out. Vastra, Jenny, and Strax had been kind, so so kind.

“You will breathe, and you will live again,” Vastra had told him. “It’s words you told me once, and I know they are the same for you.”

Now, he had them back. His Ponds. He could see his Ponds again. And there was Clara now. Clever, brave Clara, his impossible girl. Now his wife. He didn’t have to say good-bye. Not yet. Maybe not ever, if the hints River had dropped on Trenzalore were correct. A version of her had clearly been there at his end, because who else would have created the false tomb? It warmed him, deep into the heart of that old soul of his.

And he lowered his gaze to find River watching him.

She didn’t say anything, and it was unlike her. Even on Trenzalore, her ghost had been ready with a quip or an explanation, gently insulting him as he had pleaded for her to say the one thing he couldn’t say. He tried to speak, but his vocal cords decided at that moment to be utterly useless. He swallowed hard, then again. “I’m a little late, honey.”

Her eyes were luminous, and he thought it was the twin moons of the planet reflecting in them before realizing that it was tears. “Just a bit.”

“Do you remem –”

“Yes,” River cut in. “Every bit of it, from the original timeline and the one where Clara knocked me and your younger self out and saved us in the end. You know I would remember.”

His upper lip quivered, and he blinked away tears. “My impossible girl.”

“Woman, Doctor. Clara is not a child.”

He shook his head. “Why Darillium?”

“It was either here or Calderon Beta, and there’s so many of us running about there that I’m surprised a massive paradox hasn’t devoured the planet.” River turned away from him to look at the towers in the distance. Somewhere out there, the two of them were on a picnic blanket, listening to the haunting music. He would be crying, the way he was trying not to now, as he gave her the modified screwdriver.

“I’m not sure where we go from here,” she admitted. “I’m surprised you came at all.”

His jaw fell. “Why wouldn’t I come?”

“Because, it’s _you_.” River shook her head. “My love, you hate endings. What Clara did bought us more time, but in the end, I will die. You’ve figured out that I’ve seen your end.”

“You managed it far better than me,” he replied.

“No,” River said. “No, I didn’t. I ran away, and I grieved. Granted, I didn’t get to run very far because you swanned into my cell almost the moment I got back. Younger, younger you, all suspicious. Normally, it’s adorable. It wasn’t then.”

He remembered that time, after Utah the first go-around for him. He’d come sweeping into Stormcage, intent on spiriting River off after Amy insisted she needed River on the TARDIS to combat the testosterone or “whatever Time Lords have,” as she’d put it. He scrambled out of the TARDIS to see River on her cot, head buried in her hands as her shoulders shook. It was one of the rare times he’d seen her cry, and it rattled him so badly that he’d handled it poorly. He masked his concern with a pithy remark, and it turned into a row that was capped by him storming back into the TARDIS. Of course, Amy marched him right back out to apologize, but River had managed to pull herself together in the interim and life went on.

He swallowed, mortified at himself. He didn’t know what to tell her. Really, Clara was right. He just needed to throw himself at her feet and beg for forgiveness. “When you said ‘spoilers’ at Trenzalore, you knew Clara had rewritten the time line.”

River nodded. “It took me back to the room, where your younger self was. You were still knocked out, and Clara had taken my place. She doesn’t know, of course, but I realized I was supposed to have died on that chair. So, I fled before your younger self woke. Because it was an echo, the chair was empty. You still thought I died, and our time line remained intact. I saw my team home, and I wasn’t sure what to do. So, I came here. It’s been two weeks for me.”

“Did everyone make it?”

“Not everyone. We lost those from the beginning: Miss Evangelista, Other Dave. Everyone else made it.” River turned to him with a smile, one that he was familiar with now. It was the smile she always wore when she soldiered on, pushing past her own pain to deal with everyone else. “Well, let’s go thank Clara, and you can drop me at home.”

He intercepted her, grabbed her upper arms before she could move toward the TARDIS. “I love you.”

She blinked, and he gulped. OK, that’s not what he intended to say. Well, best to run with it. “I do,” he repeated. “I love you. To think you ever doubted that –”

“Do you know how long you left me in the Library?” The anger burst forth, destroying the façade she’d donned. “It took me six years to figure out how to keep time and another 10 before I made contact with the outside world. Do you want to know how many years I spent there? 317. 317 years, which is 3,804 months, which is 16,484 weeks! Every single day of every one of those weeks, I thought you would come or at least acknowledged that I could communicate. I could talk to Vastra and Jenny, to my parents and Brian. Yes, he knows about me now, no thanks to you. Every time I tried, you flinched and turned away. Maybe he doesn’t see me, I thought. It’s not that you couldn’t, but that you _wouldn’t_. You didn’t acknowledge anything, of course it would make me doubt!”

“257 years,” he shot back, fingers digging into her arms. “Do you know how long it took before I could even move from our bed? Before I could crawl to the console room and reach the controls to change the desktop? I obsessed over Clara, over who she was, because if I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t be able to breathe. You. Were. Everywhere. You haunted me all the time, and nothing I did could erase the fact that I kept failing you again and again. It’s been 257 years from the day you walked out of the TARDIS that last night to right now, and I never stopped grieving you for even a second.”

He pulled her into him, not giving her a chance to protest. It wasn’t surrender, but a battle as her lips met his and her hands fisted his dress shirt and yanked him until their bodies were aligned, his body fitting into her soft curves. They gave and took at the same time, a kiss far more passionate than the desperate moments stolen on Trenzalore, when he thought he would never see her again.

She shoved him until his back pressed against the TARDIS door. He was too busy trying to decide if he was going to push down the straps of her dress or pull the skirt up. He fisted the material, then forgot what he was doing as she trailed kisses down the side of his neck. His senses narrowed as she lightly bit one pulse point, then another, and his hips surged into hers, desperate for any kind of relief. All those days, weeks, months, years … centuries without her touch. This was the danger of forgoing celibacy, especially with a woman like River Song. Once she branded you with her touch, it was like a drug far more addictive than any hallucinogenic lipstick could ever achieve.

Thankfully, his hand made up its mind for him, and he tugged her dress strap down to expose one breast, already swollen with arousal. He ran his palm over it, and she pressed it into the flat of his hand. He wanted to feel more: both breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her arse, the heat that pressed against an aching erection constricted in trousers that were now far too tight. He whimpered, squeezing her breast as she skimmed her hands down his chest and tugged the button of his trousers open. She dragged the zipper down and slid in a hand to enclose over his erection, and he let out a shout.

Her hand skimmed up and down the soft skin, and helplessly, his hips gyrated. She pulled away from him, dropped to her knees, and drew him out of the trousers. The cool night air was a brief balm before her mouth closed over him, and if he had shouted before, then he was screaming now. He fisted her curls and surged into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat and causing her to gag before easing back. He should have felt guilty about that, but he didn’t. All rational thought fled in a mindless rush of lust and River. He was going to lose his mind, he was quite sure he was going to come harder than he’d ever done so before, and oh god could Clara hear them?

The thought was just enough of a cool-down to where he managed to push River away. She sat back on her heels, eyes glittering like green fire. Her mouth glistened from where he’d leaked a bit in his excitement, and with a daring sweep of her tongue, licked him off her lips. Damn it, he was supposed to be the one apologizing to her, but once again she’d swept in and taken what she wanted. He dropped to the ground, and she pulled him into another heated kiss, twisting their bodies until he was pressed into the soft grass and she straddled him.

“Didn’t you do this last time we were here?” he managed as she rucked up her skirt to expose shapely legs, the flare of her hip, and the fact that she wore no knickers. He skimmed his fingertips over the quivering muscles of her thighs up to the very heat of her, where he brushed against the damp curls for a moment before circling a single digit around her aching clit. She gasped and nearly lost her balance, and he took advantage of to guide her forward to where the very heat of her pressed against his lips and nose. His hands cupped her arse to hold her in place as he ran his tongue around her clit. Her hips pulsed in time to his movements, and he guided her a little more forward until his tongue slid into her.

She swayed a bit above him with little to maintain her balance other than his hands on her arse. She planted her knees firmly on either side of his head, and he thanked whatever evolutionary process that had gifted Time Lords with a respiratory bypass system. Otherwise, he would most likely pass out from lack of oxygen and the rush of taste, smell, endorphins, hormones, so many intoxicating chemicals. Her breathless cries drove him on, and he was determined to make her come this way. He reached forward, scraped his teeth along her clit and was rewarded with a sharp scream as she shoved away from him.

He gasped in air as she scooted back. Her legs visibly trembled as she straddled him once more. Her small hand smoothed down his erection, then back up in one firm pump before she guided him into her. Time stilled as she seated herself, joining together for the first time in centuries. Tears filled her eyes, or maybe it was his own. He wasn’t quite sure.

As she moved above him, some of the desperation fled as they luxuriated in the feel of each other - muscles tensing and relaxing, soft moans and the gradual swelling of pleasure as she ran her hands over her breasts, and he watched where they were joined, as he thrust as deeply as possible into her. His thumb flicked over her clit, and she leaned forward to increase the speed just a bit. His mouth found hers, and he rolled them over. Lips still joined, he thrust into her with increasing speed. She hitched her legs over his back, and he felt her come undone beneath him mere seconds before the universe spun away, and all of his senses dissolved except the mental link that connected the two of them.

“I love you,” he repeated into her skin, now slick with sweat. He eased back until he was looking into her eyes, those beautiful eyes that once more held the love that he didn’t begin to deserve. “I’m sorry I made you doubt.”

“I love you too.” She ran her hand through his fringe. “What a mess we are, sweetie.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

She gave a throaty laugh. “Touché. Shall we go see how much we mentally scarred Clara?”

He winced, not bothering to hide his groan. He eased off her, fixing his clothes as she picked his pocket. She snatched his handkerchief and used it to wipe herself before smoothing her dress back into place. “My hair is a mess,” she observed as she patted the now-mussed array of curls.

“It always looks like that.”

She scowled. “Rude.”

“Yet, still not ginger.” He tugged at one of her curls. “You are. You only do that to make me jealous.”

“Among other things, sweetie.” River folded the handkerchief and palmed it as the Doctor led her into the TARDIS.

He breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t react to the changed console room. Clara was still relaxing in the captain’s chair, wearing a headset as she nodded in time to whatever music was playing. Her gaze flicked up, and then a smile lit her face as she pulled the headset off. “Well, about time. Do you two realize you defeated three sets of noise-canceling headphones?”

“There is a whole ship you can wander off into,” the Doctor groused.

“Tried. Kept being led back here. Really, I think she still has it in for me.”

The console room dimmed.

“Now, be nice,” River said, laying her hand on the time rotor. “Clara did save us all.”

And the room lit up again, warmer now. River closed her eyes and remained still, and Clara gasped softly as the light within the time rotor pulsed gently. “How is she doing that?” she whispered to the Doctor.

“She’s the child of the TARDIS. She was conceived on the ship, and part of it is now in her.”

Clara pursed her lips as the pieces settled into place. “She was being a jealous cow!”

“Really, Clara, that’s not a nice thing to call the TARDIS.”

“But, it is! She thought I was replacing River, wasn’t she?”

“She thought I’d forgotten River,” the Doctor murmured.

“But, you didn’t.”

“I did an excellent job at pretending that I had.” He stroked the console as his gaze met River’s. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, not sure if he was intending the apology to be for River, Clara, or the TARDIS. Well, all three, he decided. All three would suit.

Clara wrinkled her nose. “You reek of sex. Go change if we’re going to visit those Ponds of yours. Off with you now.”

River’s hand dropped from the rotor. “My parents? We’re going to see them?”

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. “I might have finally gotten roped into one of those conference calls. I did some runs, and where they are now in the ’40s, it’s fairly safe. We still can’t go to New York, but we can go to Boston. They’re taking the train there with your brother in April 1947.”

River couldn’t keep the utterly giddy grin from her face. She knew Anthony, of course, had seen him at many points in his life. But never while he was so young. It was one of those things she’d reconciled herself to never experiencing, oh but now she could. Life stretched ahead of her in an endless map of possibility, one free from spoilers for the first time. Well, most spoilers. There were still some adventures her Doctor needed to take with her younger self, but those could easily be worked around. They were as linear as they were ever going to get, and he loved her. While the words and the sex wouldn’t heal the pain of all that time apart, it was a start.

\-----

The Blue Front was one of those family-run Italian restaurants clustered on Hanover Street in Boston’s “Little Italy.” It had been open for 14 years by the time the Doctor, River, and Clara pushed through its front door, and it would remain open for another three and a half decades. Mouth-watering smells mingled with a mixture of Italian and English from its staff and customers, and in the back sat Amy Pond and Rory Williams, a baby dandling from Rory’s knee.

Amy shrieked when she spotted them, nearly bowling over several customers as she sped up to them. She threw her arms around her daughter, and River hugged her back just as tightly. Then, she repeated it for the Doctor, adding a slap to the back of his head as she tugged River back into the embrace and hugged them both at once.

“Come here,” Amy said to Clara and embraced her as well. “We’re here together because of you. You’re Clara.”

“And you’re Amy. Love the welcome.” Any anticipation about not fitting in eased as Rory joined them, embracing the Doctor and River before handing the baby to River. “Here’s your sister, Anthony.”

The six-month-old stared at River’s curls and promptly reached out with a chubby hand and yanked.

“Ha! Less than a minute! I win.” Amy stuck her tongue out at Rory as River winced and gently extracted her hair from Anthony’s grip. He tried again and whined when River wouldn’t let him.

They clustered around the table and ordered plates of veal cutlets, sizzling Italian sausages and steaming plates of spaghetti with spicy sauce, accompanied by warm, buttery garlic bread. Bottles of wine were opened, and Amy pointed out the date of April 22 as she led a toast to Clara, a second to all of them being reunited, and a third to the Doctor and River for their anniversary.

“I don’t know which, I’ve lost count,” Amy admitted.

“Of the glasses of wine you’ve had or their anniversaries?” Rory asked.

“Hush, you.” Amy settled into his side and studied her family. Clara had taken Anthony and was making him giggle, ignoring the Doctor’s cut-ins as he translated the baby talk. He and River sat across from Amy and Rory, squeezed against each other and looked rather content. River was telling Clara about one of her earlier digs and some new work that piqued her interest.

The Doctor caught Amy’s eye and nodded to the door. With a kiss to Rory’s cheek, she followed him out of the restaurant onto the busy street. They slipped into the alley next to the building, and Amy leaned her head on his shoulder. “I know what you’re going to ask, and the answer’s no.”

The Doctor huffed a bit. “You’re so sure about what I’m going to ask you?”

“You, Raggedy Man, are going to offer to give me, Rory, and Anthony a lift back to 2020. Am I correct, or am I correct?”

The Doctor grumbled.

“As much as I want to, I can’t. No, hear me out.” Amy pressed against his chest a bit. “Our lives are different now. It’s been nine years since we’ve seen you, since we’ve been out of our time. Yeah, it was rough at first, but it got better. We have a house here and friends. Rory’s become a full-fledged doctor, and I’m writing books. We have Anthony, and thanks to Clara, we have River back. I don’t want to risk losing that because the Weeping Angels aren’t satisfied or something happens. You know Rory and I were thinking of stopping even before the Angels took us back.”

The Doctor didn’t say anything, running his hand through Amy’s hair. He saw the lines beneath her eyes, the threads of grey in her hair.

“It doesn’t mean we don’t want to see you. We do. You’re under orders to visit regularly, and that goes for all three of you. We’ve got a road trip to plan across America, right? Except, let’s steer clear of 1969.” Amy frowned. “Actually, Rory and I have talked about that. Melody regenerated in New York. She told us that. Does that mean Rory and I saved her?”

“No,” the Doctor said and squeezed Amy. “Her regeneration alerted the Silence. They swept her out of that alley and took her forward to the 1990s to try a different tactic.”

“Maybe if Rory and I were there, we could –”

“Amy,” the Doctor said gently, and she huffed. “Well, I wanted to at least try.”

“No rewriting your daughter’s time line.” He bopped her nose. “She’ll blame me.”

“You just don’t want to get on River’s bad side.”

“I’ve been there, and quite recently as a matter of fact. I much prefer to stay in her good graces.”

Amy laughed, laid her head back on the Doctor’s shoulder, and they watched people mingle on the street until Rory came in search of them.

\-----

“You’ll travel with us then?”

River peered over her glasses at the Doctor, shuffling nervously from foot to foot in front of her desk. She set aside the journal she was perusing and tried to pin her husband with a serious look. She couldn’t manage it. He was all gangly limbs and trying so hard not to appear eager, yet failing so miserably. “What makes you think I’ll say yes?”

“River,” the Doctor whined.

“I still have my appointment at Luna University. I have my students and at least three very lucrative and intriguing proposals to consider.” She indicated the journal and her tablet. “While the universe doesn’t believe I’ve been on a very extended vacation, I am more than ready to get back to my career. I am still an archaeologist.”

“You’ve a new chance at life. Why not become a marine biologist? You could swim with whales, River!”

“Done that.”

“Dolphins! I speak dolphin, you know.”

“Yes, you spoke quite elegantly when you used Earth Dolphin on Tranxa, not realizing you were offering to lead an orgy. No wonder they nearly ate you alive.”

The Doctor huffed and threw himself on the overstuffed sofa. “Archaeologists,” he spat. “Clara wants to go on a dig now, and it’s all your fault. Wants us to bring Angie and Artie. Says it’ll be educational.”

“It’s not a bad idea. Maybe in a year.”

“River, we are in a time machine. We can go now.” The Doctor frowned. River had stayed with him and Clara since they picked her up from Darillium, and three months passed in an unusual bliss of linear time. At first, neither of them were quite sure how they would manage staying together for so long without destroying a galaxy or each other in the process. But River had already resumed her position, using the vortex manipulator to pop back and forth to class. The Doctor tried sitting in on a few lectures, but after nearly starting a riot, River forbade it.

“We can’t go now. We can in a year.”

“Why a year?”

River removed her glasses, her smile tremulous. “You know, there’s something about when you’re celibate for 317 years before your time line is rebooted -”

“257,” he corrected her.

“- your contraceptive shot might have gone off.”

“Well, you’ll just have to speak with Clara about that, because she’s the one who –” He cut off and shot into a sitting position, over-correcting and tumbling off the sofa. He scrambled to his feet, stubbed his toe on the coffee table and hopped on one foot to River’s desk. “Wait, _what_?”

River took his hand and pressed it to her slightly rounded abdomen. “It appears, my love, we’re more compatible than we thought,” she whispered.

He swallowed, his hand absently rubbing her stomach. “You mean …”

She nodded, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Just remember who to call as your nanny,” Clara sang out as she sailed past the open door to River’s library, where she’d been eavesdropping. The Doctor and River were too lost in each other to notice, but she was more than happy to repeat her offer when they were done celebrating.


End file.
